Out of the Darkness, Into the Night
by SilverWolf329
Summary: Steve isn't stupid. He sees the darkness in everything around him, and especially in Tony. And the overwhelming night of the twenty-first century slowly strips away his innocence and ever-so-pure heart...


**Yeah… Have some more angst, everybody. I actually wrote this a long, long time ago, but I dug it up and somewhat felt satisfied with it,so...**

**Anyway, I'm not too sure about this. Meh. Everything feels a little off about it. Even the rating. Oh well.**

**Disclaimer: This piece of work is based off of the song World So Cold by 12 Stones. I do not own the song, nor do I own the Avengers. But listen to the song. It makes everything more epic.**

Steve remembers when he first met Tony. There we so many things that he wanted to know, like what happened to Howard, what happened to Peggy, what happened to the world. Steve was looking to Tony, the son of one of his best friends, for those answers.

Tony let him down.

Steve realized then that Tony wasn't Howard, wasn't even close to Howard, the man who would lay everything down to help an ignorant friend.

That was when a deep-seated hatred bloomed in his heart, one that he couldn't squash no matter how hard he tried.

It tore him apart, just like a sleeping cancer that had awakened and was slowly devouring everything good and light within him.

* * *

(He's acting all weird. It's almost like… No.)

* * *

Steve thinks the best of people. It's just his nature, the way he is. He is good, unselfish, and righteous. That's what makes him Captain America. He thinks that people, no matter how bad, can be saved.

He looks at Tony, and a little part in the back of his mind says, _maybe not_.

Steve wonders what happened to Tony to make him so bitter. No matter how clueless he is about the twenty-first century, he is good at reading people. He always has been. From Tony he reads loathing, anger, and a background strain of melancholy.

He reads that these things are so deep rooted, have festered for so long, that they couldn't have started after Afghanistan. After Iron Man.

They couldn't even have started after MIT.

It's as if Tony was born with a thorn in his heart, a thorn that had slowly torn it apart, until there were only shreds of what had once been.

* * *

(He's looking at me funny.)

* * *

Steve looks around him, at his team and at the world, and wonders what happened. He wants to know what happened to the world around him, the world he once knew.

Everything is different now. Love is intermingled with hate, friendship with betrayal, trust with lies.

He sees Tony destroy the life of one of his long-time business advisor and perhaps, just maybe, friend, because he asked about Jarvis' coding.

He realizes Bruce isn't the only person with a monster lurking inside him, waiting to burst out at the slightest provocation.

Steve thinks (more than once) that maybe people in the world are sleepwalking. His therapist says that sleepwalking is a sign of a restless mind, one that cannot sleep but cannot awaken. The therapist says to never wake a sleepwalker.

He looks around him, and he can't take it. He asks (once) if they would just wake up.

Nobody answers him.

Tony just stares. Cold and calculating.

* * *

(What did he just say?)

* * *

A week later, Steve learns that his therapist is dead.

* * *

(Serves him right.)

* * *

Once, when Tony complains that Fury doesn't like him, Steve says that there might be a reason. He says, under his breath, that obnoxious people aren't liked.

Tony just stares at him, no remorse in his eyes whatsoever.

Steve absent-mindedly wonders if Tony knows he could be doing something worthwhile instead of staring at him all the time.

Out loud, he says a simple word. _Why_.

Tony looks at him for a second longer, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left. He opens his mouth just a fraction, cocks his head a little more, then closes his mouth, rights his head, turns around, and walks away.

* * *

(What?)

* * *

Steve mentions to Tony's therapist that Tony might be a sociopath.

* * *

(How did she know?)

* * *

Five days later, Steve learns that Tony's therapist is dead.

* * *

(Tighten scream tighten scream fire light flash pain hurt hands warm poke bone scream…)

* * *

Steve still clung to the hope that somewhere, deep down inside, Tony was good. He still clung to the hope that somewhere, Tony was able to feel real emotions.

Maybe Tony could learn.

Tony was too far gone to learn.

* * *

(He knows they know how how it's him must be him can't let him… No. Stop.)

* * *

Steve starts looking at the rest of his team. Natasha and Clint very obviously love each other, as he can tell from the significant glances, touches exchanged when they thought nobody was looking, whispers in each other's ears… That was after they tried to kill each other.

What?

He's seen Thor like that, too, how he handled the Enchantress surprisingly gently even after she tried to kill them.

Again, what?

The only one he can see that isn't like that is Tony, who, ah, takes care of his enemies, then takes care of those he loves. Honestly, sometimes the line between enemies and friends is somewhat blurry.

Wait, what?

Steve thinks Tony's given away enough bits and pieces, oh-so-crucial pieces of his soul that what's left is a mangled mess.

No, they'd been taken.

Taken.

Given.

Taken.

Given.

What was the difference?

* * *

(How does he know?)

* * *

Tony was _sick_, Steve was sure of it. Not the cough and sneeze sick, not the oh-that's-so-cool sick, not the ugh-what-happened sick.

He was lost, confused, and angry, but more importantly, he was also powerful, wealthy, and charismatic.

Together, those spelled bad things.

They made Tony sick.

* * *

(He knows _everything_. How?)

* * *

Steve wonders how many times Tony has been torn down and rebuilt in another man's image. Hundreds, thousands? He witnesses a few during the Avenger's stay at Stark Tower, subtle hints that nobody else seemed to pick up on.

Tony is faster and stronger than he was before the Avengers.

Tony is suddenly an expert on all things gamma.

Tony knows how to shoot a bow and arrow.

Tony knows fashion.

But Steve can tell Tony doesn't want to. It's just been done so many times it's now a reflex.

Steve can see the pain in Tony's eyes every time he realizes he's changed.

* * *

(The eyes really are the windows into the soul. Huh.)

* * *

When Steve was young, all he heard about was rich, successful people like Howard Stark and how everyone should strive to be like him.

When Tony was young, all he heard about was good, righteous, Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, and how Tony should strive to be like him.

They both hated it.

* * *

(He _what?_)

* * *

Steve now realizes he sees the best and the worst in people. And he's not sure how he feels about that. But he chooses to look only at the good, never the bad.

Maybe one day, everybody will be good. There will be no bad.

* * *

(Stupid idealistic, righteous…)

* * *

Steve looks at the world around him, and his heart screams _YES!_ and his brain screams _NO!_

It's weird. The world is so different, but so similar, too.

Steve realizes that now he can only see the worst in people and the world. Something has happened to him. Something has changed him.

* * *

(He's brooding he's dark it's contagious it's a black hole)

* * *

Steve can now do nothing but smile and pretend that nothing is wrong. It feels strange to be this way. Whenever he sees somebody, he is immediately pelted with all their faults and insecurities.

Natasha feels she will never be as recognized for her battle prowess as the rest of her team.

Clint is angry that somebody was able to take over his mind, and scared somebody will be able to do it again.

Bruce is, of course, scared of turning into the Other Guy, and scared that the team will abandon him.

Thor constantly fears the team, or his father, or Jane Foster banishing him again. He doesn't want to be alone.

Tony… Tony doesn't fear. Steve wonders what happened to make Tony so cold that he no longer fears betrayal and loss.

And then he sees Tony give away a little bit of himself to everybody he meets, and he realizes that it's not that Tony doesn't fear it.

He realizes that Tony has become accustomed to it. Tearing his soul apart and giving it away was so commonplace, so ordinary, that Tony no longer felt anything when the pieces of his soul weren't returned.

And he sees that nobody looks at life the way he does anymore, with joy and reverence and respect. Even the people with everything have nothing.

He realizes nobody cares anymore. About anything. They say they do, and they think they do, but they don't know what caring means. None of them. Nobody.

He realizes freezing in the Arctic wasn't the coldest thing he had felt, not by far. He realizes it is living this life.

In a world so cold.


End file.
